Am I missing something?
by meldahlie
Summary: Just what is up at Hogwarts in 1995? Professor Grubbly-Plank is beginning to wonder. Alternative PoV from OotP.


Am I missing something?

Now, I've taught at Hogwarts twice before: the first time six years ago when Professor Kettleburn lost his other leg and had to go to St Mungo's for three months; and the second time last year when Hagrid was having a little difficulty with the Daily Prophet and all that. And it's always been very pleasant, like all the nice aspects of going back to school. Not that things don't change, of course. In my days as a student, Professor Slughorn was the Potions teacher, Albus the Transfiguration Professor, and Og the one who shouted at you if you tried to take a niffler for a walk across the grounds. But a bit of change is what makes things interesting – a nice mix of the old and the new. While it's true there's not much conversation you can get out of Professor Snape, Minerva McGonagall's always interesting, Romilda Hooch game for a reminiscence (we were at school together) and then there's Albus' standard joke.

"I'm still waiting for that Transfiguration essay," he twinkles from behind that now-white beard.

I twinkle right back. "And I'm still waiting for a new joke, Albus. I told you the dragon ate it."

In a word, Hogwarts is always most enjoyable. This time, it's different. For the first, I don't know why I'm here. Now, that's putting it badly. The two times before, Albus has owled me to say "such-and-such has happened, are you free?" And it's not that I'm nosy, I'm just saying that's the usual pattern. But this time, the note just asked if I wanted a few weeks' teaching job. No time specified, no reason given. When I got here, eventually I find out it's because Hagrid's – not here. Missing, away, I don't know what. And nobody's saying. There's an _atmosphere. _

That's the best I can describe it as, an atmosphere. It's different, and strange, and the most similar situation I can think of is of that behind a large dragon when it's eaten too rich a meal. Albus hasn't made the joke, and I haven't seen his twinkle once. Minerva's face is as dour and pinched as an underfed goblin, and Romilda seems to have taken up permanent residence down at the Quidditch pitch, or up the Astronomy Tower, or anywhere other than the staff-room.

That's another big thing that's different, and nobody's talking about that, either. The staff-room, that delightful gathering place of warm friendly chatter, has been transplanted to the Arctic. Hardly anybody's going there, and when they do, nobody's talking. I don't mind a pipe in private, but I do like a little company. The only person who's in there regularly is the new Defence Professor, Umbridge. And you couldn't say she's company, she doesn't talk. Always in there, but just sitting off by herself. I've made a few remarks, pleasantries like the weather and the students, but they fall on deaf ears. I know some people are shy, and the temperature in there is hardly the welcoming camaraderie I met when I taught the first time, but that's no reason not to make a little effort.

Then there's the students, they look harassed and are whispering to each other all the time. And the thestrals are acting up, with that completely unexpected attack on Harry Potter's poor owl. And you can't take a nice walk in edge of the Forest because the Centaurs are, apparently, 'feeling restless.' And the ghosts are joining the students in going about whispering, but they don't break off when they come across you. They carry right on whispering, and believe me, a ghostly "whisper" wandering down the halls at eleven at night doesn't exactly improve the general mood.

And – well, it's just everything, really. Different. And nobody's asking why – or at least not in way I'd have expected them to ask. They're having an "Investigation into falling academic standards." An investigation into atmospheric standards I'd have thought was more necessary, both for students and staff. But even if it is needful, and I'd be the first to admit I've always been a hands-on person rather than really bookish, so I'm no judge for the academic, I don't see how the Defence Professor going around asking the teachers how long they've been at Hogwarts like she's a reporter from the Daily Prophet is going to do anything for the exam results.

I don't know, it's just different. Perhaps Hagrid really did make a difference, that great heart in all senses of the phrase, the way everybody seems to be going a bit mad in his absence. Or perhaps all this atmosphere and introspection is just that I'm not sleeping well. Last night, I dreamed I was awake all night, hunting through the library for a book with a recipe for a giant joy-killing toad repellent. I'm sure Sybill would be able to tell me, but I can't think where I got that nonsensical garble from.

~:~:~


End file.
